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Poem by Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey


The Soote Season


The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings,
With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale;
The nightingale with feathers new she sings,
The turtle to her make hath told her tale.
Summer is come, for every spray now springs,
The hart hath hung his old head on the pale,
The buck in brake his winter coat he flings,
The fishes float with new repaired scale,
The adder all her slough away she slings,
The swift swallow pursueth the flyës smale,
The busy bee her honey now she mings--
Winter is worn that was the flowers' bale.
And thus I see, among these pleasant things
Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs. 



Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey


Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey's other poems:
  1. The Sun Hath Twice
  2. Of The Death of Sir T.W. the Elder
  3. Geue Place Ye Louers, Here Before
  4. Alas! So All Things Now Do Hold Their Peace
  5. Complaint of the Absence of Her Lover Being upon the Sea


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